Rain
Written by: Helene Myko
As the drizzle makes its way gracefully through the ocean of blue, it falls lightly down, and down, and down-
And gradually makes it wetter. It bounces off the leaves and the red rooftops, almost silently landing on the gray pavement and yet you can hear through the darkness the drum sound in every drop.
Exploding in tiny droplets, the shattered molecules bounce one last time as they die.
These drops group into small puddles, each becoming a happy place for worms.
As the water evaporates the smoke-like substance takes form of a face..
A lone figure on the sidewalk looks closer; he realizes they are the features of his long lost grandfather. All of a sudden memories rush up to his throat, they have a strong acidic taste, and the salty tears that swell up against his will mix with the rain.
He remembers how late at night he would read him his own stories, the ones he wrote in his blooming days. They were stories by the candlelight about his youth, about the beauty of the nature, and the carefree days.
He realizes with a pang how the world has changed since then. People live at a faster pace; they run by their daily routines without noticing the small and simple pleasures of life. They rush by tall buildings, race through meaningless labyrinths of networks, get entangled in greed.
Submerged in thought, he hasn’t noticed the rain has stopped. The dark clouds had parted to reveal a pink and white sky. Soaking yet oblivious to it, his eyes land on the red sphere of light which with superior grandeur ascends behind the trees. Barely able to tear his eyes from its magnetic charms he dares to shoot a glance back to the spot on the pavement, but all image is gone. Instead are just a few last drops falling with a light “ting” from the wet leaves.
Slouching a little, he takes a few steps into the trees until the growing warm darkness engulfs him.
